Daria Morgendorffer and the Goblet of Wassail
by Caesar Augustus Plutarch
Summary: Written in response to a PPMB Iron Chef challenge a grieving Daria finds an unexpected similarity between Trent and her late father when he comes to visit her cabin in the mountains just before Christmas.


Daria Morgendorffer and the Goblet of Wassail  
_by Cap_

Outside the night wind howled but Daria was snug and warm. The snow beat vainly against the windows unable to penetrate the citadel of comfort repulsed by the thick walls and insulation of the modern log home. She had joked for years about a cabin in the mountains yet she would admit privately that she was surprised that she actually owned one. It was her highland hideaway seemingly miles from anywhere although she was in truth very near the university where she taught and by the government's reckoning, the D.C. metropolitan area ended only a stone's throw away.

A fire crackled merrily weaving a tapestry of light on the stone hearth but it had little to do with the room's warmth. A Franklin stove, less aesthetic then the fireplace but far more utilitarian kept the cold at bay from its place before the opposite wall.

Daria padded drunkenly across the hardwood floor in her slippers and forest green flannel gown. She drank deeply from her goblet. Like the fire, the hot, sweet wassail warmed Daria, its own tendrils of flame dancing within her. It had been her father's favorite drink although he would only make it in December. "It always remains a special treat that way," he told her once grinning like a kid on Christmas. Daria missed him more then she thought possible. She missed both of them.

Daria shook her head. The regrets she could live with but she preferred not to dwell on them. It was easier when classes were in session. Professor Morgendorffer could fill her hours with work and ignore Jake and Helen's little girl. She was harder to disregard during the endless nights of the winter break.

She took another long draught as she curled up on her sofa. The book that she intended to read laid unopened on the end table. Daria instead sat her goblet on it before pulling the quilt over her. The wine eroded her will. Memories galloped unfettered as she stared into the flames. Memories of Christmases past, birthdays, family outings, and the blood soaked crushed remains of her parents' car. Tears rolled down her face.

(*)

Loud knocking roused her from her sleep. Like a mole in sunlight, she squinted, her hands patting around her trying to find her glasses. She finally found them by her empty goblet.

"I'm coming," she grumpily yelled as her visitor knocked again. With a groan, she shoved her feet into her slippers. Her head pounded and something had evidently died in her mouth during the night. Daria rubbed her abdomen, vainly trying to ease her sour stomach.

Trent Lane was standing on her porch when she snatched opened the door. Black gloves, black fedora, gray scarf and a black overcoat protected him from the winter cold. He had a brown paper bag clutched in one of his arms.

"Why are you here?" she snapped irritably.

"Good morning, Daria," Trent calmly replied pardoning her peevish greeting.

Daria narrow her eyes peering at the sunlight bouncing off the snow-covered hills behind him. It was morning indeed, late morning at that. Her stomach lurched dangerously.

"Excuse me," she groaned moving around him. Trent watched in surprise as she leaped off the porch. Seemingly unfazed by being outside in the cold wearing only a nightgown, Daria yanked her glasses off then fell forward into a snow bank.

"Are you all right, Daria?" Trent worriedly asked.

An inarticulate snarl was her only answer. She stayed face-down for nearly a minute. Trent was about to venture another question when with a violent shudder, Daria slowly rose. She ran a sleeve across her face before turning back to her visitor.

"I must look like the wrath of God," she said when stepped onto the porch.

"You're never anything but beautiful," replied Trent sincerely.

Daria snorted. "Liar. Now once again, why are you here?"

"I brought lunch," he answered.

"That's a large bag," she noted. "How much do you think I can eat?"

"I was hoping to join you," Trent clarified shyly

He could not decipher the long look that she gave him. Undaunted, he stood his ground. Jane had commanded him to bring Daria to her for Christmas although he would have driven the treacherous roads under his own volition. He was not leaving without her or at least her promise to appear at Jane's house.

"Come in," Daria said over her shoulder. "You can hang your things on the coat tree."

The interior of her home dismayed Trent. It reminded him of the clutter of his old house. Daria was a borderline neat freak. She must still be hurting greatly to let her housekeeping slide this much, he thought. His determination that had been so resolute wavered. If she were still vulnerable perhaps, it was not the best of times to press his suit.

"Just put everything on the counter," Daria said absently waving in the general direction of her kitchen nook. "You can make lunch while I shower."

Trent found a large pot. He sat the water to boil then busied himself straightening up the mess as she bathed. He lost himself in the simple tasks to avoid over analyzing the situation. He stuck to the notion that his motives were noble.

He was folding the quilt that fallen to the floor when she finally emerged. Her freshly scrubbed face was free of any cosmetics. She was plainly dressed in a pair of jeans and a crimson sweatshirt with West Virginia Highlands University blazoned across its front in black trimmed silver letters. Thick white socks protected her otherwise unshod feet.

"I suppose that I'll pass for human now," she said looking around her. "You've been industrious."

Trent shrugged.

"Yeah, I know," Daria said apologetically. "I've let things get out of hand around here."

"Understandable," Trent replied simply. "Under the circumstances."

"Perhaps," she said not quite allowing herself the luxury of that excuse. "How did you react when you lost your father?"

Trent held up the quilt. "Where do you want this?"

"Just sat it on the sofa," she said. "I'm sorry if I touched upon a sore subject, Trent."

The lanky man sighed deeply. "It's only a sore spot for me because I almost did not care when Dad died. He was a stranger to me really. I hate to say so but it'll likely be the same when Mom passes. I haven't seen her in three years. I'm surprised that she even called me after the election. I can only think that Summer mentioned it to her."

"My parents had their faults but they loved me and let me know it," Daria said sadly. "They deserved a better daughter."

"Daria, I can not count the number of times they told me how proud they were of you; a PhD at twenty-seven, three novels published, a college professor," Trent replied. "As far as they were concerned, they had the two greatest daughters in the world."

"They were half right," Daria mumbled.

Trent knew that in her present mood she would not hear any praise. It would be a waste of breath to attempt to convince her. He walked over to the stove instead checking on the progress of the noodles in the pot. Daria joined him.

"I thought spaghetti for lunch," he said. "With salad and some Italian bread."

Daria nodded absently running an eye over the food he laid out on the counter. "Did you think that I was so far gone that you had to drive over from Maryland to feed me?"

Trent shook his head. "No, Daria, I didn't. You're strong, stronger then your grief."

"Jane put you up to this then."

"No," Trent said. "Well, yes and no."

Daria waited for him to elaborate but he only paused. Leaning forward, he stared out of the window watching a doe forage beneath the barren maples and oaks that dotted the mountainside. He muttered an unintelligible oath as he returned to his task.

"Yes and no," she finally said breaking the silence. "You've definitely become a politician. It's a simple question, Trent, why are you bothering me?"

Trent made a face. He had rehearsed this moment for years but his well thought out phrases suddenly abandoned him. He would lay siege armed only with the truth. "Jane wants you at her house for the holidays and I want to ask you to marry me."

"Me?" Daria exclaimed. "Marry you?"

Trent looked pained. "Do you have to make it sound as if it was that preposterous an idea?"

A wan smile came to Daria's mouth. "Trent, think about it. In a couple of weeks, you will be taking your place in the U. S. House of Representatives. I'm a self-centered, short-tempered misanthropist. My only social life is faculty functions and I only go to those if it's a command from my head of department. I live alone in the mountains because that is where I am most at ease with the world and myself. I'm hardly of the material that political spouses are made."

Trent smiled in return. "I'm hardly the typical politician but that doesn't matter. Daria, I have loved you for fifteen years, literally from the first moment I met you. The day you drove off to Raft, I swore that I'd make myself into a man worthy of you. I might not be anywhere near as intelligent as you are but I did get my degree even if it was ust from Lawndale University. I'm not rich but my music halls are a thriving business. The one in Lawndale is already becoming a must stop venue for a lot of the up and coming bands. The ones in Fairfax and Martinsburg are starting to catch on as well. The one in Frederick opens on New Year's Eve with North Pole Penguins headlining. And, like you said, the people have entrusted me to be their voice in Washington and before that they elected me to the House of Delegates."

"And I'm supposed to be in a swoon over that?" Daria asked archly.

Trent gritted his teeth. Daria could be the most obstinate person when she set her mind to it. He had hoped that she would have chosen a different easier tack in this situation but he had to play by her rules.

"I was hoping that you would be impressed by the efforts I put into making something of myself," Trent evenly replied. "I was hoping that you would understand that I am no longer the narcoleptic poseur who butchered chords and lyrics with equal indifference. I was hoping that our friendship was somewhat more then that."

"I know that you aren't the man I first met," Daria said judiciously.

"And?"

Daria took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "And I'll think about it," she said eventually. "About coming to Jane's, I mean."

Trent stirred the noodles. "Yeah, I'll tell her," he replied in a voice devoid of all emotion. He wanted to run from her but he stayed. Her refusal was implied but until she said so definitively, he would hang on.  
"I'll put the bread in the oven," she said uncomfortably. "Warm it up."

Trent nodded catching the intonation. "I'll leave if you want me to."

Daria placed the bread into the oven and set the temperature. She had not wanted any company but suddenly the thought of being alone was repugnant. She knew that she had been isolating herself far too much in the last few months. She kept friends and family at arm's length since the funeral in October. Her colleagues at the university had been very kind and solicitous toward her although their reward was little more then vague responses or scarcely voiced gratitude. Daria trembled to think of the size of Quinn's telephone bills lately. Her sister called her several times a week from Charlotte and not a day went by that Daria did not get at least an e-mail from Jane. Both she and Quinn were busy with husbands, children and careers yet neither failed to reach out to her. Maybe, she needed to meet everyone halfway.

"Tell Jane that I'll spend Christmas with her," Daria said coming to a snap decision. "I'll drive over tomorrow and stay a few days but I think that I'll spend New Year's with Quinn. I should get better acquainted with my nephew."

"Amanda, Candace, and Daria think of you as their aunt," Trent said. "You're certainly more of one then Summer or Penny."

Daria smiled warmly. "Triplets. I still don't see how Jane manages."

"Love finds a way."

"Yes, I guess so," she answered. "What are your plans?"

"Where's your strainer?" he asked.

"A colander?" she asked. "The cabinet to your right."

Trent found it. He quickly drained the noodles and tossed them back into the pot. He added meatballs and poured in the sauce. He gave the spaghetti several vigorious stirs before he answered her. "My long term plans are in the hands of the voters but I won't serve more than four terms in the House. After that, I will probably quit politics all together but we'll see. Governor Lane does have a nice ring to it."

Daria laughed. "Yes, it does. What about short term?"

"After I get home tonight, I'll probably make of batch of wassail," Trent murmered.

"Wassail?"

Trent grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, I love it but I only make it in December. Sorta a gift to myself, you know. I guess that sounds ridiculous."

Daria could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. "No, it's not ridiculous. It's very sweet."

Trent glanced over in surprise. Sweet was not an adjective he ever expected Daria to use. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," she replied quickly swiping at her eyes.

She started to say something else but stopped herself. Trent waited expectantly but she stayed silent apparently lost in thought. Shrugging, he began to open cabinets in search of plates and bowls. Stillness ruled as he filled their plates and set the table. Daria's contribution was to pour a couple of glasses of apple juice for them and snaring some forks.

They ate without conversation. Small talk has not something either enjoyed and they exhausted the big topic. The proposal sat between them like another guest but the long years of friendship and affection allowed them to be at ease enough with one another where the silence did not seem weighty.

"That was good," Daria said as both finished their second helping. It was a simple affair but most of her meals had been catch as catch can lately. The lunch was a real treat for her.

"Thank you," Trent replied as he began to collect the dinnerware. "Spaghetti is the bachelor's best friend."

Daria chuckled as she snagged the glasses. "The single woman's also. Just stack everything in the sink. I'll wash them in a moment."

"I can help," Trent offered laying the plates into the basin.

"No, you've done enough," Daria said firmly as she came abreast of him. "Really, I'm grateful, for lunch, for coming to see me."

"You're welcome."

They looked at each other for a few moments both waiting for the other to say something.

"Well, ...I guess I'll be leaving," Trent eventually said. "I'll see you at Jane and Levi's."

Daria came to another decision of sorts. She raised herself onto her tiptoes and lightly kissed him. "Trent, I'm not promising anything and please believe that I am not toying with you but ask me again in the spring. I'll trust myself to give you the correct answer then."

"Ever cautious," Trent quipped, hope flooding through him.

"I am what I am," replied Daria.

"And I have no desire to change you," Trent said.

The snow crunched under her boots as Daria walked Trent to his car. No wind stirred. The sun bathed the mountains in light but the temperature remained well below freezing. Bright red cardinals fluttered around the bird feeders chirping over sunflower seeds. A tiny chickadee pecked at the suet cake that hung from a small oak.

"Please drive carefully," Daria pleaded as he got into his car.

Trent nodded. He knew that her entreaty was anything but rote. "I will," he promised.

She smiled affectionately. "Trent, when you make the wassail tonight bear in mind that I like it also."

"I didn't know that," he replied truthfully.

"It's my favorite," she told him. "But I only drink it in December. I'll see you in a couple of days."

"You'll see me in the spring also," he replied. He smiled broadly, as he started his car. With a jaunty wave, he drove away.

Daria waved back. She stood watching him until he disappeared around the bend. A song came unbidden from her memory. The birds looked at her in curiosity as she happily sang,

"_Here we come a wassailing  
Among the leaves so green  
Here we come a wandering  
So fair to be seen_

_Love and Joy come to you  
And to you your wassail too,  
And God bless you and send you a happy New Year  
And God send you a happy New Year."_


End file.
